


Electrolysed

by VioVayo



Series: Exchange/Event/Gift Fics [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Bad end, I am so sorry, Judai appears for .3 seconds, M/M, YGOME19, angsty undertones to angsty overtones, science puns, the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioVayo/pseuds/VioVayo
Summary: electrolysis (noun)the producing of chemical changes, especially decomposition, by passage of an electric current through an electrolyteWhen Misawa finds himself in possession of a card that contains a spirit, there is only one person he can think of to ask for advice. It turns out there were a few variables he forgot to consider.
Relationships: Manjoume Jun | Chazz Princeton/Misawa Daichi | Bastion Misawa
Series: Exchange/Event/Gift Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048988
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24
Collections: Yu-Gi-Oh! It's Time to G-G-G-Gift! [Mini-Exchange]





	Electrolysed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lauriekits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauriekits/gifts).



> Holy wow this turned into the longest thing I've ever written. The bulk of this is set between episodes 54 and 56. First time writing Misawa, and I had a lot of fun.
> 
> Huge thank you to [s.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedshotgun), without whom this mess of a fic would have been an unbeta'd mess of a fic.

electrolysis [ɪˌlekˈtrɒl.ə.sɪs]  
(noun)  
the producing of chemical changes, especially decomposition, by passage of an electric current through an electrolyte

_______________

It was finally here.

Just in time, too – that being the exact time Misawa had predicted it would arrive, current weather conditions considered. The few blemishes here and there were to be expected of a second-hand card, but overall it was in great condition. Misawa turned the card over in his hands, inspecting it for the unexpected, but it appeared to be exactly what he’d wanted.

At the top, the name of the card in bold black letters. Hydrogeddon. It was the last piece his water deck was missing, at least until he would improve his theory of duelling further, but that was just the nature of the sport. His deck would forever be a work in progress, and he’d accepted that as a good thing.

Of course it was already playable despite this, and he’d proven that on numerous occasions. Water Dragon needed only two copies of Hydrogeddon for its summon, which he already owned. But Misawa was a perfectionist at heart. He didn’t want his deck to peak at just _playable._ He wanted it to be good, great even, to get as much out of his chosen attribute as he could.

What others called luck, he called statistics, and statistics were a science like any other. Probability was just another variable, and one that he could exercise control over at that. So he would. With three copies in his deck he’d bump up his chances of opening at least one Hydrogeddon from 23.72% to 33.76%, at which point summoning a second would be easy. That, of course, brought his chances of winning from probable a little closer to inevitable as well.

This was the kind of duellist he was.

Pleased with what he was seeing, Misawa slid the newest addition to his collection into the established stack of cards, then sorted through it one more time. Just to make sure everything was as it should be, and also to take out what had acted as a placeholder up to this point.

Everything was how he wanted it. The new academic year could come.

At the time he thought nothing of the faint, barely noticeable glint to its surface. It was probably just a factory error, nothing more. Just something that made this new card a little more special than the rest.

_______________

So. As rare as these moments were, it wasn’t unheard of that Daichi Misawa was _wrong._

It hadn’t been long since he got that card, a little over two weeks, in which he’d slowly come to realise that maybe calling it a little special had been the tiniest of understatements. Maybe the card was a little more than just a little special. Maybe it was even special in a way that, dare he admit it, was outside of his realm of expertise – at least as of yet – and it seemed he would have to seek some outside input on his current situation.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t trust himself to figure things out on his own. He had absolute faith in himself, and it was for this exact reason that he had nothing to prove. Even as prideful as he was, Misawa wasn’t one to make things more complicated than they needed to be. 

Which was what led him in front of a certain door at the Red dorm, in the hopes of finding one Judai Yuki behind it. Judai was, after all, the one person Misawa knew to be both A: able, and B: willing to help in this matter.

He knocked.

There was no response. After exactly 20 seconds, he tried again, harder this time. Maybe Judai was taking one of his many naps and just hadn’t heard. This time Misawa’s efforts were rewarded, as a voice snapped from inside the room, “Take a fucking hint! What the hell is it?!”

It wasn’t Judai.

Opening the door revealed that, indeed, Judai was nowhere to be found, and Misawa found himself stared down by the room’s other occupant instead. Manjoume was sitting at a desk in front of an open notebook, scowling in a way that would’ve scared most people off, including Misawa, had this been a year ago. “Well?” he demanded in a tone which matched his expression. It would’ve been more effective if it wasn’t such a common sight on Manjoume, but seeing as it was, Misawa wasn’t intimidated.

“Where’s Judai?” he asked, straight to the point.

Manjoume tsk’d, shrugged, and unhelpfully responded, “Not here, obviously.”

Misawa gave him _a look,_ to which Manjoume raised his hands defensively, fingers spread out aside from those wrapped around the pencil he was still holding. “I don’t fucking know, alright? He went out with the shorty to do – fuck if I know what, and I _was_ going to use this brief moment of peace and quiet to get some actual work done.”

The jab at Misawa's unwelcome intrusion didn’t go unnoticed, and Misawa frowned, mumbling an apology. His eyes drifted to the work Manjoume was referring to. He recognised that series of duel quizzes as a homework assignment he’d already done. Of course. He liked to stay on top of things–

“I don’t need your help, fuck off!” Manjoume had apparently noticed where he was looking and did not appreciate it. His hands dropped and the pencil knocked into the desk’s surface with a thump, the volume of which was indicative of the force of the motion. But again, Manjoume’s prickliness wasn’t exactly news.

“I know,” Misawa tried to placate, though he considered his chances of success to be rather low. “I’ll leave you to it.” He turned around to make good on this promise. He still had to track down Judai, after all, seeing as how that was the entire reason he’d come here in the first place.

Just as he was reaching for the door handle so he could close the door behind himself and give Manjoume back his valuable peace and quiet, the dull sound of Manjoume’s chair being pushed across the carpeted floor behind him made him pause. “Wait, is that–” Manjoume didn’t finish his sentence, and Misawa looked back over his shoulder to see what the problem was–

_Oh._

“Nevermind.” With a dismissive gesture and a change in tone that almost sounded like disappointment, Manjoume sat back down and turned his attention back to his homework. Something about that struck a nerve.

“This is why I wanted to talk to Judai,” Misawa explained, lips pressed together in a tense smile.

Manjoume’s head immediately snapped back up, and he looked at Misawa for a solid second, completely caught off guard. His eyes wandered down to settle on the unfamiliar duel spirit now curiously exploring his living space. “You can see it too?”

“Her,” Misawa corrected. “Surprised?”

There was some satisfaction in the way the former-Blue-now-Red turned pink as he realised how ridiculous he looked with his mouth hanging open like that. In a failed attempt at regaining his dignity, Manjoume tilted his head back and stuck his nose up into the air, rolling his eyes while trying to justify his reaction. “Her, whatever. Wouldn’t you be?”

Misawa’s smile turned a little more genuine. While his reputation as _the smart one_ had initially impressed people, it wasn’t flashy enough to keep people’s attention like, say, Judai’s unpredictability, or Kaiser’s raw power, or even Manjoume’s surprising but undeniable charisma. He originally hadn’t planned on letting Manjoume find out about this, having categorised the Red as someone capable of but most likely not willing to answer any of his questions, but now that the secret was out, well– It was nice to be recognised for something again.

“I suppose that is fair.”

The Hydrogeddon spirit sniffed at Manjoume’s foot, who pulled his leg away with a disapproving click of his tongue. This did not deter her. If anything it only motivated her more, and Misawa couldn’t help but laugh as he watched the scene unfold, earning him a sharp glare and a hiss of “Can you control your lizard maybe?”

“She’s a dinosaur, technically. Reptile is a completely separate type of monster–” Misawa was about to launch into a full lecture, but Manjoume’s eyes narrowed threateningly and quickly put a stop to it before he had the chance to. It was probably for the best. Manjoume would undoubtedly take it as an insult, seeing as how he was a duellist as well, and well aware of the different types of monsters in the game. “–she’s just curious, since you’re only the second person she’s met who can see her.”

Manjoume made a noise of displeasure, but didn’t complain further. At least not verbally. His annoyance was still very obvious in the face he made as he looked back down at the spirit clawing her way up his pants.

It was almost cute.

Not that the concept of _cute_ held any real meaning.

“That being said,” Misawa continued, acutely aware that he – _they_ had already overstayed their welcome and he didn’t want to risk irritating Manjoume further, amusing though it may have been, “we really should be going now.”

Realising that she was being addressed, the chemical spirit detached herself from a relieved Manjoume’s clothes and waddled over to Misawa instead. She blinked her wide, yellow eyes up at him. He blinked back at her. Even though he hadn’t known this creature for long, there was already a level of understanding between them, a connection that he’d never felt to any human and that he couldn’t quite explain, yet.

And then, just like that, she’d disappeared – vanished to whatever place duel spirits went when they weren’t currently visible. Misawa was determined to figure that out, too He had a few theories already, but if any of them were true remained to be seen.

Manjoume took a deep breath and sat back down at the desk, picking his pencil back up. “Right,” he muttered, “You’re looking for Judai.”

Misawa hummed an affirmative.

“You know, just because Judai can see duel spirits doesn’t mean he has the answers you want.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” was the only response Misawa could think to give. He’d been aware of that possibility from the start, but it still seemed an odd thing for Manjoume to bring up. There was an edge to his voice too, one Misawa couldn’t quite identify, but he didn’t dare ask about it now. He filed that observation away for later use.

“Whatever.” And the edge was gone, replaced once again with the boy’s usual possibly-just-an-act hostility. Manjoume’s eyes left Misawa to fixate on his notebook instead, and he started scribbling away. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Door’s over there, as you know.”

So it was. It had been wide open this entire time.

“Sorry for wasting your time,” Misawa apologised, and Manjoume responded with a wave of his free hand, shooing him out without another glance. Misawa took that as his cue to do as he’d intended all this time, and finally left, careful not to make too much noise as he shut the door.

_______________

Misawa was making good progress on his research. Since he’d started to look into the mysteries that were duel spirits, he’d found out a number of things, all of which had been written down on various surfaces with the intention of transferring them onto paper later.

The most notable one was that, despite being able to see the Hydrogeddon spirit, this ability didn’t extend to any other spirits. It had been a disappointment at first, even if Manjoume assured him that it was honestly a blessing – that he should be grateful he would never experience the hell that was being kept up until four in the morning by what a drunk Don Zaloog considered singing. Misawa had accepted it, although that did bring up an entirely new set of questions.

He hypothesised that seeing spirits might be a skill that could be improved, possibly through practice. Only time would tell whether he was right or not, but he remained hopeful. After all, if a person could start perceiving one spirit basically overnight, it was only valid to assume the same was possible for any and all other spirits as well.

Another thing Misawa was gaining a better understanding of was the way communication between spirits and their duellists worked. Apparently, feeling a special connection with the Hydrogeddon spirit wasn’t subjective, and he’d been right to think there was more to it than simple emotional attachment. Where Manjoume and Judai had trouble understanding Vinnie due to her lack of human speech, Misawa always seemed to know what she was thinking, as if on instinct. He’d been informed that this was apparently a common occurrence, as long as the spirit and duellist in question shared some type of bond.

Further research was obviously required, but it was a start nonetheless.

Judai had, unfortunately, shown himself to be less of an asset than Misawa had hoped. His input as a friend was of course appreciated, but his tendency to react with an _‘oh, that’s neat’_ and move on without questioning anything that happened to him was unhelpful, to say the least. The number of times Misawa had gotten _‘I dunno’_ , or _‘I never thought about that’_ as a response to his questions was a bit disheartening.

Surprisingly, and against all expectations, _Manjoume_ more than made up for it. After their conversation a few days back, he kept finding ways to insert himself into spirit-related discussions to share his wisdom, more often than not wearing the kind of smug expression that others would describe as _punchable._ Misawa might have found it annoying as well, if it wasn’t legitimately impressive just how much Manjoume seemed to know.

“I think I know what I want to name her.”

“Name her?” Manjoume lifted the pillow off his head so that he could pointedly raise an eyebrow at Misawa from where he was lying, notably on Judai’s bed instead of his own – Something about being closer to the floor making it easier to ignore that he was forced to sleep in a bunk bed. “You mean your duel spirit?”

Misawa, who was currently sitting at one of the two desks and watching the Hydrogeddon spirit in question chase _something_ around the dorm room, gave a nod in response.

This was quickly becoming habit. Misawa would visit the Red dorm almost every day to talk to Judai, and Judai would be away doing whatever it was that Judai did. That first time, Misawa had spent several more hours running around the island trying to find him, and afterwards he’d argued that it would have been much more effective to just wait at the dorm, since Judai was bound to return to it eventually. Even Manjoume had to grumpily acknowledge the logic behind the request, and agreed to tolerate Misawa’s presence from then on.

“What’s wrong with Hydrogeddon? Why does she need a name other than that?”

Misawa shrugged. “I have two other copies in my deck. It only feels right to give her a name to set her apart, because she’s special.”

“Hm.” Manjoume wasn’t impressed with the answer, but he let it go.

The more Misawa talked to Manjoume, the more he learnt not only about duel spirits, but about Manjoume himself as well. For one, and this came as somewhat of a surprise, he didn’t really have much of a social circle. Of course there was Judai, who, in Misawa’s objective opinion, ticked all the boxes for what made a friend despite Manjoume’s insistence that he did not, and who Manjoume would occasionally tag along with. Aside from him though, the only other friend of note Manjoume had was Fubuki Tenjouin, a person whose company was best enjoyed in small doses.

He didn’t appear to have any ties left to his friends from Obelisk Blue, if they ever were friends in the first place. Misawa vaguely remembered the group he used to associate with, but he hadn’t actually seen Manjoume with them since he started paying closer attention. In fact, if anything, he’d observed Manjoume actively avoiding his old associates in all situations where he was likely or guaranteed to run into them. On top of that, it seemed to be mutual.

More often than not this meant that Manjoume spent his free time alone at the dorm. To Misawa this was a positive, as it gave him more opportunities to converse with him about the topic of spirits without having to approach him for it specifically and risk being snapped at.

If he was being honest, Misawa had come to understand Judai’s schedule better than he let on, erratic as it was. It wasn’t a coincidence that he never came over when Judai was actually available, and he suspected Manjoume probably knew that, too. Intelligence wasn’t Manjoume’s most stand-out feature – that was his wealth to those who knew, and his refusal to wear the school’s uniform to those who didn’t – but he was the farthest thing from stupid. Most likely he’d already figured out that Misawa was always early on purpose, and that wanting to talk to Judai had really become more of an excuse, yet he still chose to say nothing and let the Yellow student stay regardless.

The conclusion: Manjoume was lonely.

And too proud to admit it, of course, which fit perfectly with what else Misawa knew about his personality.

“So what exactly are you going to name her then?” Manjoume rolled over onto his side to better look at Misawa, and hugged the pillow to his chest. His expression was bored, but his eyes were wide awake and attentive.

With a small smile, Misawa replied, “I was thinking Vinnie.”

“That’s cute–”

“It’s short for Vinegar.”

A beat of silence passed. Manjoume’s face did an interesting thing then, and Misawa swore he could see all five stages of grief simultaneously presented in the way his mouth twisted into a grimace that communicated _what the actual fuck_ better than any words would have been able to.

“–You’re kidding,” the Red declared rather than asked. “What the hell kind of name is that? That’s dumb.”

“No, actually, it’s quite clever. You see, hydrogen ions are what give acids their properties, and vinegar is acidic–”

Manjoume let out a long groan, rolling back onto his back and pushing the pillow onto his face again, as though that would somehow drown out the _nerd-talk_ – his words, not Misawa’s. It was barely wide enough to cover his ears. “I should’ve known it was something like that,” he whined, the sound muffled but still understandable. “Do you ever stop thinking about science?”

Misawa suppressed the urge to laugh. “Science is the basis of our reality. Everything anyone does is built on and around science.”

“Shut up.”

“Fortunately,” and a bit of laughter did slip in there. Misawa could only imagine the eye-roll happening behind that pillow, “Yours isn’t the approval I’m looking for.”

A glance over at the Hydrogeddon spirit revealed she’d caught her prey and was now pinning it down against the floor, her whole weight supported by something Misawa couldn’t see. Well, okay, he hadn’t been able to prove beyond a doubt yet that duel spirits even _had_ mass – It was the strangest thing! Newton’s Third Law just didn’t appear to apply to them, much to Misawa’s continued frustration. – but that was what it looked like.

She, as though sensing her duellist’s thoughts, which Misawa now knew was very possibly the case, looked up and curiously tilted her head to the side. A brief moment passed as she evaluated his reasoning behind the admittedly unusual name. The conclusion she came to was a positive one, and she let out a satisfied trill that even Manjoume must have been able to identify as one of approval.

“Vinegar it is then,” declared Misawa, proudly, with a grin.

“I don’t fucking believe this,” complained Manjoume.

Vinnie let whatever poor spirit she’d caught go and rushed over to Misawa’s side as quickly as her little legs could carry her, squeaking happily at him as he picked her up and lifted her onto his lap. He couldn’t feel her gaseous body under his fingers, but she seemed to enjoy being pet regardless, and so he did. Manjoume groaned into the pillow and mumbled something, this time too quiet for Misawa to understand.

“I’m sorry,” the Ra apologised. “They’re not hurt, are they?”

Manjoume finally removed the pillow to glare at nothing in particular. “I wish,” he said, and at a second glance that really looked like more of a pout than a glare. Misawa could only imagine what he was able to hear and see at that moment, and it was hard not to be just a little envious.

“I figured you would step in if things got out of hand.”

“Don’t count on it.” Manjoume made a face. “And it’s not like that thing can do much damage anyway. She’s tiny.”

Indeed she was, and Misawa had been wondering about that too. The holograms his duel disk projected whenever he summoned a Hydrogeddon were comparatively massive beasts, while Vinnie was maybe as big as an above-average-sized house cat. Misawa had done a few test games, and it didn’t appear to make her card any less powerful in a duel, but it was certainly odd still.

“Maybe she’s just still growing,” he suggested, scratching the spirit where her ears would be if she’d had any.

“Maybe.”

Struck by a thought, Manjoume suddenly shot up, narrowly avoiding hitting his head against the middle bunk above him.

“That reminds me–” he started, “I’ve been thinking about this, actually. You know how duel spirits used to be born from people’s souls?”

Misawa raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “I did not, no.”

“Well I have it on good authority that they were, so just trust me.”

“Right, and whose authority is that?”

Annoyed, Manjoume shushed him. “That’s beside the point. _As I was saying,_ what if she came from yours?”

Misawa let out a thoughtful hum, looking down at the spirit that was peacefully dozing off in his lap, and considered the possibility. It was hard to imagine, but then again these were exactly the kind of insights he kept coming here for. He knew better than to dismiss the claim outright. “You think that’s possible?”

“Of course it’s possible! Do you _have_ to question everything I say?”

The corners of Misawa’s mouth twitched, but he managed not to laugh. “I’m a scientist. Questioning things is what I do.”

Rolling his eyes so hard it bordered on concerning, Manjoume crossed his arms in that overdramatic fashion of his that couldn’t be anything but deliberate. “Well stop.”

“That _would_ explain her size though,” Misawa admitted, not at all bothered by the childish display. At a displeased mewl from Vinnie, he continued at a lower volume, “If that is what happened, she can’t be older than the few weeks I’ve had her card.”

Any offense Manjoume had taken dissipated the moment he realised his idea was being taken seriously, and he visibly perked up. “Uh-huh, see, and it could be why you’re able to see her, but not any other spirits,” he suggested, gesturing to emphasise his statement. He seemed almost _excited_ about the discovery, and Misawa would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little, too. “Can I see the card?”

Manjoume held out his hand.

The “Sure” was out of Misawa’s mouth on reflex, and he was about to reach for his water deck to hand over what had become his most prized possession, but he hesitated.

This was Manjoume.

Their relationship was different now, and they were on better terms than they had been. Maybe even on good ones, if the ease at which they conversed was anything to go by. But this was still Manjoume, who had stolen his cards and thrown them into the ocean, and trust was a hard thing to earn. Especially once it'd been betrayed.

Did he trust Manjoume, now? It was hard to say. Yes, or rather maybe. Not enough.

The other caught on to his reluctance, expression changing into one of confusion first, then, slowly, shifting to realisation. A second of silence passed. Misawa half expected him to get angry, to yell at him, maybe even try to justify himself, but nothing happened.

Then Manjoume let himself fall back onto the bed, rubbing at his eyes. “Fuck, you want me to apologise for that, don’t you.”

He didn’t specify what _that_ was, but they both knew he didn’t have to.

“I don’t expect an apology,” Misawa assured, and he meant it. It was over, done with, couldn’t be changed now. Even back when it had happened he’d known an apology would be a silly thing to ask of Manjoume of all people. He would never get one, so there was no point in wanting one either.

“Ugh, no, I mean–” Manjoume made a frustrated noise, as though he was struggling to find the right way to formulate what he wanted to say. “I _should_ apologise.”

Oh.

“I did something unforgivable,” Manjoume continued, without giving Misawa any chance to comment. “And if I knew how to make it up to you, I already would have. But I don’t. I was hoping you would just forget about it, but I guess if I can’t, why should you...”

“You were scared, weren’t you,” Misawa cut in, and Manjoume sucked in a harsh breath through his nose, opening his mouth as if to argue and defend his no doubt wounded pride. But, to his credit, he didn’t, and that was really all the confirmation Misawa needed. “Not of me, but that’s why you did it, wasn’t it?”

Manjoume nodded, slowly, unsure.

Misawa watched Manjoume’s face for any signs of dishonesty and found none. It was rare, almost _strange,_ to see the former Blue so genuine. But of course, even if it was undeniably true that Manjoume wasn’t known for being particularly emotionally open, he’d also never faked that he cared when he didn’t. That just wasn’t his style. In fact, Misawa felt pretty confident in saying the opposite was far more often the case, and such a thing needed to be considered.

He gave Manjoume a long, contemplative look. “You’re right,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “I can’t forgive what happened. And I don’t feel like I can give you my card now.”

“I unders–”

“But I know Manjoume Thunder is not that kind of person.”

Manjoume’s mouth snapped shut. He stared at Misawa, eyes wide, and the Ra felt no small sense of pride at being the one to catch him this off guard. Judging by his reaction, the meaning of that sentence was instantly clear, and yet it still took a few seconds to properly sink in. The shock faded from his expression. Determination settled in its place.

“…he’s not,” Manjoume said, then, and Misawa chose to believe him.

The door flew open, startling Vinnie and causing her to dissipate. Judai, covered head-to-toe in dirt, grinned at his two classmates from outside.

“’Sup.”

Near instantly, Manjoume’s hostility was back in full force, expressed in an aggressively hissed line about knocking that Judai just laughed off as he stepped inside and closed the door behind himself. Misawa felt… disappointed, almost. Whatever side of himself Manjoume had chosen to show him was gone, once more buried under layers of anger. It made him wonder whether it was possible to see more of it, and he wanted to dig for it again, but that would have to wait. Judai was here now.

Swallowing his frustration at their moment being interrupted, Misawa greeted Judai with a smile and a small wave. “Volts times seconds, Judai.”

All his brilliant joke got him was a bewildered blink, and of course, he hadn’t expected much else. He’d had made it mostly for himself, really. What _was_ unexpected though was the sound of a sharp exhale to his left, followed by the words “oh my god” muttered in exasperation – or something else. Manjoume was covering his mouth with his hand.

“I don’t know what that means,” said Judai.

Before Misawa had a chance to explain, Manjoume spoke up. “He’s saying _welcome back_ in nerd-speak, obviously.” His voice was dripping with practiced annoyance, but he’d removed the hand to be heard, and the way his facial muscles tensed in suppression of what would have been a smile told a different story. Misawa wasn’t sure what it was, but the sight made him feel _something._ “Because a Volt multiplied by a second is a Weber, and Weber is shortened to Wb.”

Oh. It was happiness. Misawa was happy.

“Uh-huh…” Judai still looked just as confused as before.

Misawa sported the grin that Manjoume refused to. “He’s right, actually.” To Manjoume, “I’m impressed, I didn’t expect you to get that either.”

Manjoume huffed, but some of that smile did manage to break through. “Unlike _some people,_ I actually attend class.” He directed a meaningful look at Judai. “It’s a shitty joke, but I guess it gets points for making Judai look stupid. Not like that’s hard.”

“Hey!” Judai pouted, though he didn’t give off the impression of being actually insulted. “You wanna be a pro, right? You’re never gonna need whatever that is in a duel anyway, so why bother?”

“I’m not going to let my grade average be dragged down by a class, even if it’s not related to duelling, Judai." 

Misawa hummed in agreement. 

Judai just shrugged. “Fair. It’s your time to waste,” he said, walking over to the bed to sit on its edge.

Manjoume shoved him back off immediately.

“What the hell, man?” Judai picked himself back up, rubbing his behind where it had painfully collided with the floor. Misawa considered saying something, but this seemed like the kind of interpersonal issue he’d better stay uninvolved in.

“Have you looked in a mirror? Don’t get your fucking dirt on me–”

“But you’re in my bed!” Judai argued back, then paused. “Why are you in my bed?”

The question was answered with a pillow to his face.

_______________

“–I mean, it’s easy to tell which is which from context, but having to put subscripts on everything is just inelegant, and a waste of time! Do you see my problem?”

Classes were done for the day. Misawa and Manjoume were walking back to the Red dorm, as had become routine – not together, if Manjoume was to be believed, but at the same time and in the same direction, which really amounted to the same thing. Mere weeks ago, Misawa would never have thought he’d ever grow to appreciate the other’s presence as much, but this was… nice.

There was no other person in his circle of friends at least, that Misawa could comfortably talk to about the overuse of the symbol phi in electro–slash–magnetodynamics, and who would even try to follow along.

Manjoume’s interest in the subject, unlike Misawa’s, may not have been based on a genuine passion for science, but Misawa had seen the books hastily shoved into desk drawers. He also understood the need for recognition possibly better than anyone else. Especially in this environment of being reduced to one or two base traits and filed away in neat little boxes, he refused to overlook Manjoume’s intellect like so many others seemed to do, and from what the Ra could tell with his limited people-knowledge, Manjoume seemed to realise and appreciate it too.

Manjoume hummed to signify he was listening.

“I’m not a linguist, but I know for a fact there are several alphabets physics doesn’t use yet,” Misawa concluded his rant, pressing his lips together into a frown.

“What, like kanji?” Manjoume snorted, and a look over to him revealed he was smirking. “That would save so much time, I’m sure.”

Misawa grimaced. “I know what you’re saying, but I actually would prefer that to subscripts.”

“You’re nuts.” Manjoume shook his head. The jab was playful, and the laughter that accompanied it pure and free of malice. Misawa was starting to hear that sound more often lately, but that made it no less of a precious rarity. He treasured these moments and even tried to create them whenever possible, with varying levels of success, but that was also something he was getting better at.

All in the name of science, of course. Or it had been, but now Misawa wasn’t so sure whether that was his entire reason for taking interest in Manjoume anymore.

Manjoume wasn’t Misawa’s only friend, but he was the one he’d spend the most time with nowadays. The core of their group kept moving on as a unit, but they were caught on the fringe, dragged along against a force just short of strong enough to make them splinter off completely. Misawa supposed it was stronger on him – he’d always considered having nobody else to turn to reason enough to be friends, but that alone had stopped sufficing. Now he knew what it was like to be looked _at_ instead of _towards._

If he’d ever truly had a place within the group, it had been taken by somebody else now. Kenzan, well… he seemed like a decent enough person during the brief interactions they’d had on account of them both being Yellows – odd, certainly, but a good fit for the group. Misawa could empathise with Kenzan’s passion for archeology despite it not being his own science of choice, and dinosaur type monsters – Vinnie being a great example – were dear to his heart as well.

They had common ground to bond on. Going purely by logic, they should’ve been friends.

And yet, it still stung to be shoved even further onto the sidelines, especially in favour of someone Judai and the others had known for no more than a few weeks.

Misawa knew better than to blame the other for this. Even so, he was bitter, and unable to prevent this fact from tainting their interactions. It wasn’t exactly fair, but – well. It didn’t really matter now anyway.

“Earth to nerd, are you in there?” Manjoume lightly elbowed Misawa in the side, and the resulting startled flinch snapped him back into reality more so than the contact itself. “What Nobel-Prize-worthy thought is it?”

“Hey!” Misawa let out a breathy laugh as his momentarily elevated pulse dropped back down to an acceptable level, and he returned the favour by bumping into Manjoume. Determined not to be shoved around, Manjoume pushed back against him, and the two stumbled along, shoulder to shoulder.

“Not going to tell me, huh?” Manjoume needled, giving his words emphasis with a particularly hard shove that wasn’t enough to knock Misawa over but could definitely be felt, only to lose his balance when Misawa’s response to that was to simply move away. With a yelp, he fell, kicking up dirt as he tried digging his shoes into the ground to no effect. Not even a second later Misawa found himself with an armful of extremely irritated looking Manjoume, clinging to his Ra uniform like his life depended on it.

His face was flushed from embarrassment, or anger, or both, especially obvious with how pale his skin was. Misawa couldn’t help himself and chuckled – not full blown laughter, but enough to irritate Manjoume further.

“You fucker–”

“I was thinking about Kenzan,” Misawa answered, cutting off whatever insult was about to leave Manjoume’s mouth. He smiled as he helped his friend back to his feet, met with considerably less resistance than the other’s expression would suggest.

Manjoume still took a hasty step back as soon as he was let go, refusing to meet the Yellow’s eyes, brushing some dust off his jacket despite it not having touched the ground. Misawa waited for an angry rant to come, but the second of silence passing in its place had him realise that Manjoume wasn’t going to acknowledge the past minute ever happening, and the way his eyebrows drew together strongly suggested for Misawa not to, either.

“Kenzan, huh? That guy’s annoying,” Manjoume said. Misawa snorted and immediately felt bad for it, awkwardly clearing his throat when Manjoume looked at him funny. “I don’t know what I was thinking, there’s no way you could ever win a Nobel Prize.”

“Oh?” Misawa asked. A little bit of wariness crept into his tone, only amplified by the way Manjoume’s expression twisted into a smirk when he answered.

“People would have to know who you are.”

Like a punch to the gut, the words rendered Misawa unable to breathe. Manjoume, looking pleased with himself over what he seemed to think was a hilarious joke, turned away and started walking again. He showed no signs of noticing that Misawa wasn’t doing the same, twisting the proverbial knife even further.

This wasn’t exactly new. The fact that Misawa felt caught off guard was actually more unexpected than the joke itself. That was, after all, his _thing_ just as much as his intelligence was – he was the forgettable one, reduced to the trait of being invisible, and his friends missed no opportunities to remind him that this was the box he’d been filed into like it was little more than a joke. To them it probably was. The worst part was that, in some twisted way, Misawa could see the humour in it too.

It was ironic to be most remembered for being easily forgotten.

It also hurt.

Misawa shuffled in place awkwardly, but there was nothing to be gained from heading back, especially over something that, to anyone else, was such a small thing. So he followed, though he didn’t rush to catch up. His longer strides would easily bridge the distance between him and Manjoume, but the air separating them could just as well have been a wall of solid glass.

Too thick for sound to effectively carry through. Mirrored on the other side. Misawa kicked at a rock as he walked, and it skidded ahead of him unimpeded. Of course, nothing was really there. He was making a big deal out of nothing.

Manjoume stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the Red dorm rooms. He turned around and looked Misawa straight in the eyes with an intensity that was almost too much now, while the space between them grew smaller, until it vanished completely and Misawa was standing in front of him.

The Ra must have looked as confused as he felt. Manjoume didn’t wait for him to ask why they weren’t going inside.

“Alright, out with it. What’s wrong?”

Misawa’s breath left him in one sharp burst. The decision to say nothing on the matter crumbled under the weight of that question, and then the line “That was uncalled for” was out with no way of taking it back. It felt good, at least in that instant, but the moment of euphoria was brief and when Manjoume’s ever-present frown deepened, regret took its place immediately.

“The Nobel Prize thing?” Manjoume’s brows furrowed, lips pressing together. He leant back against the railing with his legs crossed at the ankles, causing the old wood to emit an ominous creak as it bent ever so slightly under his weight. Apparently his renovation efforts weren’t reaching this far. “It was a joke–”

“It wasn’t funny.” Too late, Misawa couldn’t withdraw his words now. Forward was the only way he could go. “It never has been. I thought you’d understand that.”

“First off, don’t interrupt me,” Manjoume hissed, eyes narrowing in what was clearly meant as a warning. Misawa was too focussed on his face to pay attention to his hands, but he could hear the tension as the former Blue’s well-kept nails dug into the railing. It was a terrible sound, one that filled him with dread in the same way walking on unstable ground would, like one small step could make everything under him collapse. Manjoume was right. Out of everyone, he was also the person who deserved Misawa’s resentment the least. “Secondly, I–”

Misawa waited for the rest of the sentence to follow, fearful that his outburst had cost him the closest friend he had, but – nothing. Manjoume bit his lip and averted his eyes. For once, not being looked at was a relief, albeit merely a small one.

“You?” Misawa prompted, hoping the too-fast beating of his heart didn’t translate into his voice.

Manjoume’s head turned, eyes darting around as he quickly scanned the area for any company. None of the other Osiris students ever went back to their dorm this early, usually preferring to spend their free time anywhere else on the island, leaving him and Misawa as the only two people currently around. They were alone. Manjoume sighed. He shifted, drawing another distracting noise from the railing. “I do understand. It sucks to be constantly overlooked.”

Misawa said nothing. He didn’t trust himself not to misstep if he allowed himself to speak, say those bitter thoughts he knew to be false, that _no, actually,_ Manjoume Thunder couldn’t possibly understand what it was like… What he had with Manjoume was worth too much to risk losing over something so small and objectively unimportant. The Red was an irreplaceable research partner, and beyond that–

Realising that he wasn’t getting a response, Manjoume continued, “Judai is a dense idiot. And Sho is just as bad, he’s just going to blindly follow Judai’s dense example. They’re not going to stop unless you tell them it bothers you.”

“I noticed,” Misawa said. Some of the bitterness he was so desperately trying to keep internal seeped into his words, but there was nothing more he could do to prevent it. “I don’t think they’d care even if I did though.”

Manjoume shrugged. “Dense idiots, like I said.”

“What about you then?” Misawa hesitantly asked. It was hard not to make that question sound accusatory, but he must have succeeded if the raised eyebrow he got as a response was anything to go by. It hardly counted as a negative reaction by Manjoume’s standards at least.

“You told me, didn’t you?”

Maybe that was enough.

Misawa laughed. There was nothing funny about any of this, but having this conversation with _anyone,_ much less the person he’d have expected to tear him apart for showing weakness only weeks ago... It was absurd. He couldn’t help it. He covered his mouth and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m acting so irrational.”

Manjoume pushed himself away from the railing, creaking of wood mixing with a thoughtful hum, and said “It’s not irrational to want to be noticed and involved.” He spoke in a tone that was uncharacteristically soft. It made it hard to tell who, out of the two of them, he was trying to convince. “Humans are social creatures, if I remember that right. You of all people can’t argue with science.”

“I guess I can’t,” Misawa responded, and part of him really meant it. “Thank you, for reminding me.”

He got an awkward half-smile for that. It only lasted a second, before Manjoume looked away, red-faced, and cleared his throat. “Alright,” he said, turning towards the stairs and hastily starting to climb, looking in more of a rush than they really were. “We should go, uh… Figure out how to get you that Nobel Prize. For introducing kanji into physics, or whatever.”

With a chuckle that was far more appropriate this time, Misawa followed. “I don’t think that’s how that works, but I appreciate the thought.”

Manjoume snorted as he bent over and pulled Judai’s dorm key from its hiding place behind a loose piece of wall. “That’s the point of figuring it out,” he said, then straightened, inspecting they key in his hand. It went into the lock with some difficulty from the sound of it, but Manjoume seemed used to the effort by now. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll make it.”

It was a simple way of looking at the world. Too simple – but it was impossible to deny that it was an effective one. 

Misawa thought that yes, maybe they really would.

_______________

And then, as things around Duel Academy had a habit of doing, everything fell apart.

Manjoume started acting strange. None of their other friends seemed to care and just dismissed it as unimportant, just another one of the boy’s weird moods, and Misawa didn’t think he’d ever been this angry before. It was as though they didn’t know him at all. Then again, they had never been good at noticing things happening at the fringe of their group, so he wasn’t sure what he even expected.

But Misawa knew Manjoume. Misawa noticed.

He’d tried to stop and reverse whatever process his friend was living through, but he didn’t know enough about it to come up with an effective solution. Manjoume didn’t make it easy to find out what had happened to him either. He completely isolated himself, barely talking about anything that wasn’t the glory of the light. None of the things Misawa could think to say in return had a positive effect, if they even had any effect at all.

Giving up became increasingly tempting with every passing day of failure. But Misawa wasn’t quite there yet.

He managed to ambush Manjoume in front of what had become of the Blue dorm one day, flanked by two other students in white uniforms. Catching him alone had turned into an impossible task ever since he’d started associating only with others in the Society of Light, and as much as Misawa would have liked to, it had been enough of a challenge to get his attention at all. It was an uncomfortable thing to have now. Those eyes were as sharp as ever, but something about them was off. The light reflecting off them was wrong.

Cold. Cruel.

Misawa could neither see nor feel Vinnie’s claws dig into the fabric of his uniform as she clung to his shoulder, but he knew it was happening regardless. She was shaking.

“Manjoume, please–”

“You have no right to make demands of White Thunder!” one of the two other Whites interrupted, putting himself between Misawa and Manjoume. He’d probably been an Obelisk prior, possibly in a different year than them too, as Misawa didn’t recognise him from Ra. Manjoume signalled for him to step back with a wave of his hand.

“I’ll handle this,” he said. His voice was just as cool as his eyes. “You. What makes you think I’d ever be interested in moving to Red?”

You? He wouldn’t even use Misawa’s name.

The Ra struggled to breathe for a moment. The same, tired old argument was stuck in his throat, but he needed to force it out one more time, for the sake of them both.

“All our friends are there,” he choked out, earning only a scoff in response.

“Friends?” Manjoume all but spat. Misawa expected him to roll his eyes as normal, would have even preferred it to having that stare fixed on him, but the other never even as much as blinked. “Like who? The only friend I– that _any of us_ needs, is The Light.” He raised his arms and tilted his head in what could only be described as a challenging manner, and mocked, “Your kind is better suited for Red, don’t you think?”

Misawa grit his teeth, but the anger he felt didn’t belong to him. Growling like a feral animal, Vinnie leapt off Misawa’s shoulder, aiming for Manjoume with claws bared. Misawa barely had enough time to react, but he managed to reach out his arms and grab her before she reached her target. It would have done no good anyway, though she obviously didn’t agree, struggling against him as he hugged her to his chest. “Calm down, Vinnie. It’s okay…”

“And he’s crazy too. Our White Thunder is right, that’s a good fit for Red.” The two unfamiliar students laughed.

“No, it’s–” Misawa looked at Manjoume, searching his expression for something, some form of recognition, _anything,_ but he found only indifference. “–Vinnie. You remember Vinnie, right? My duel spirit?”

Nothing. No change whatsoever.

“You think you can fool me? That’s cute.” Manjoume’s eyes narrowed then, and somehow this was worse. “Are you that pathetic that you need to pretend to have an ability you don’t just to feel better about yourself? If you could see spirits, I would know. There’s nothing there.”

Vinnie stopped struggling, whimpering into Misawa’s sleeve.

“If that’s all,” Manjoume said, finally looking away, towards the White dorm, “we’re leaving.”

“Wait!”

Misawa reached for him with one hand, the other still clutching the Hydrogeddon spirit. His fingers brushed against Manjoume’s sleeve, only to be violently slapped away. The other two Whites looked just about ready to get violent as well. Misawa retracted his hand. His heart pounded in his chest as he made his plea.

“At least let me join you.”

“You’ve got some nerve to assume we take just anyone.” Manjoume regarded him with a look of pure disgust. “I don’t even know you.”

Nothing more was said between them. Manjoume turned away before Misawa had any chance to think of a response, and really, what was he supposed to say to _that?_ At least he was being spared the pain of Manjoume seeing his tears.

Vision blurred by salt and water, Misawa missed the ghostly draconic presence at Manjoume’s side throw a pitiful glance over its shoulder. It bowed its head as though in apology, before lifting itself into the air on spectral wings and disappearing. Vinnie let out a miserable whine.

As he stood there, watching his best friend’s retreating back covered in that horrible white, Misawa’s heart shattered.

_______________

decomposition [diːkɔmpəˈzɪʃn]  
(noun)  
the act or result of decomposing; disintegration  
in chemistry, the separation of a substance into constituents by chemical reaction

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you had as many feels reading this fic as I had writing it.


End file.
